Those Other Animals — Inside the Classic

The Wasp as the True Hero

Henty’s most sustained argument is his rehabilitation of the wasp at the expense of the bee. He asserts that the wasp surpasses the bee in both industry and intelligence, a claim he supports by noting the wasp’s ability to build intricate nests from chewed wood and its role as a predator of pests. The bee, he suggests, is overrated simply because humans profit from its honey. This reversal is typical of Henty’s method: he takes a creature universally disliked and presents it as a model of virtue, while the beloved bee is shown to be selfish and unremarkable. The essay on the wasp is a masterclass in rhetorical inversion, using the same criteria of utility that humans apply to animals to argue for the wasp’s superiority.

The Cockroach as Insect Pariah

In his essay on the cockroach, Henty paints a vivid picture of a creature that is both reviled and fascinating. He notes its omnivorous diet, including a taste for boot blacking and beer, and its silent but communicative nature, with cockroaches seen ‘standing head to head in close confabulation.’ Henty draws a moral distinction between the cockroach and other insects, calling it ‘the rats of the insect world’ and suggesting that even other insects shun it. The essay is notable for its blend of precise observation—such as the cockroach’s preference for intoxicating liquids—and humorous anthropomorphism, as when Henty speculates that cockroaches would devour a bishop if given the chance. This combination of fact and fancy is a hallmark of the collection.

The Mouse and the Mystery of Fear

Henty’s essay on mice begins with a puzzle: why do women, who are brave in shipwrecks and sieges, feel ‘abject terror’ at the sight of a mouse? He describes the mouse as ‘one of the most harmless and inoffensive of created things,’ noting its soft coat, bright eye, and capacity for affection and tricks. The essay contrasts the male view of the mouse as a charming pet with the female terror that Henty finds ‘absolutely unaccountable.’ This observation serves as a springboard for a broader reflection on irrational fear and the ways in which cultural attitudes shape our responses to animals. Henty does not resolve the mystery but leaves it as a testament to the complexity of human-animal relations.

Henty’s essays are best read as rhetorical performances rather than natural history. He adopts the persona of a contrarian moralist, using irony and exaggeration to expose the inconsistencies in human attitudes toward animals. Readers will find the most pleasure in the essays on the most despised creatures—the wasp, the cockroach, the slug—where Henty’s wit is sharpest. The illustrations by Harrison Weir add a visual dimension to the humor, depicting the animals with a dignity that contrasts with their lowly reputations.

Years at this desk have taught me that jokes often house the gentlest truths. Henty’s creatures remind me of the quiet regard in that other volume, whose scaly residents also wait for patience rather than praise. A cockroach defended, a lizard observed—both ask only for a slower glance. Amphibians and Reptiles in Captivity — Themes and Context shares that same unhurried warmth, like a hand resting on a vivarium glass.